


High Schoolers

by beachbby



Series: Stoner Tim [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Recreational drug usage, Tim's the family pothead, guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 03:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20807786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beachbby/pseuds/beachbby
Summary: Red Robin and Superboy smoke weed in a bathroom. What happens next will warm your heart.





	High Schoolers

They’d just smoked out the bathroom to the point where visibility was roughly halved when his phone vibrated in his pocket. 

Kon looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and Tim shrugged, feeling way too loose for his own good. Digging through his pocket for the thing, he almost had a fucking heart attack when he saw Dick’s text. 

‘We’re coming over to get last night’s patrol info that u said u had logged. Turns out the Marconi gang is doing a little more than gun running lol’

He was fucked. 

Okay wait no that was just the weed speaking. He’d be able to handle this. 

“Dude, what happened?” Kon asked, his absolutely massive shoulders trembling with the effort it took to keep from coughing. Despite the situation not being funny at all (it was pretty bad actually) he grinned. 

“Dick’s coming over for something. I’m gonna call ‘em and see if I can convince them to take an email instead.” And Kon’s eyes widened to the point he was worried about them like, uh, splitting or something. Could eyelids do that? Probably, they were thin as shit. “Don’t worry dude it’ll be okay, just be quiet while I call.” 

“Wait, not in here-“ Too late dude, you snooze you lose.

Dick picked up his call on the first ring and when he spoke, the realization of just how hard it was going to be to act Not High hit him. “Hey Baby Bird! Did you call about the patrol info?” Straight to the point. Shit. 

“Yes.” He said. Y’know, all suave and sober-like. 

Kon was shaking, this time from trying to stifle his laughter. 

He had to elaborate, he had to. Dick was going to catch on. “I’m a little busy right now, do you think you can take an email?” And the man, the man who’d been his Batman, laughed into the receiver. 

“No can-do, we gotta get the info like, now or else we’ll lose a lead. Also you tend to leave like, half the information out of reports because you don’t deem it important enough to include, so there’s that we have to account for.” Shit, shit, shit. 

“Who is ‘we’?” 

He leaned against the sink, butt pressing against the countertop, and ignored the way Kon was trembling in an attempt to hide his laughter and keep his presence unknown. 

Dick sounded amused through the phone and Tim could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. “Me, Hood, B-man, and Robin are on our way over there. We should only be like, five minutes away.” 

Oh God oh shit oh fuck-

“Sounds good, I’ll get out the hors d’oeuvres and sparkling water.” And Dick laughed, like, well, a dick. 

He went ahead and hung up without warning him, shoving his phone back into his pocket and ignoring Kon’s “dude.” 

“Kon, I have to get the box fan from my room so I can air out the living room.” And he must’ve sounded half as panicked as he felt because Kon straightened, looking as scared as a high-off-his-ass clone of Superman was physically capable of. “Then I’m going to get candles. You’re going to stay in here and not smoke anything else until I come back in, okay?” He got a quick nod and eyed the look Kon shot towards his bong (which was neon orange with a Flash logo on the side because Bart was a prick). That was a dangerous look, but Tim didn’t have any time to reiterate how important it was that Kon not light any more of his shit because his sense of time always got fucked up whenever he was high and he was fairly certain that he’d already been staring at Kon, in silence, for a solid minute. 

Shaking himself, he forced his body to move. Squeezing out of the bathroom without letting like, half the smoke out took effort but damn if he wasn’t efficient. It took him only a few seconds to rip off his shirt and throw on a new one and only a few more seconds to find the damn fan. 

He almost tripped over himself in his attempt to run into the living room but managed to throw open his windows and turn the fan to its maximum setting without too much pain. 

Not burning himself on the candles took a little bit more effort but when he was able to smell lemon zest and citron stardust, he knew he was in the clear. 

Now, Kon screaming “Tim!” from the bathroom almost made him spill half-melted wax on himself. Which, y’know, was an exhilarating experience. He crashed back into the bathroom, managing to not get any more smoke out because yeah, he was a badass. 

“What!? What happened?” He hissed, eyes stinging when the smoke irritated them again.

Kon looked panicked and was in the process of digging through his bathroom drawers. “Dude, I forgot to tell you, your eyes are so fucking red. Do you have eyedrops?” Shit.

“No,” He ran a hand through his hair, hoping it wasn’t too messy. He tried to think fast because knowing his luck, Bruce was already at his damn door. “I’ll just wear a domino, it’ll be fine.” Actually that could work perfectly. He’d probably be able to guilt trip them into leaving faster if they thought that he was tired after a patrol and had yet to even take off his domino.

Kon nodded, relief evident in the way his shoulders slumped. “Thank fuck dude, thank fuck.” He could say that again because Jesus, that was almost terrible. 

He pulled one of the extra dominos that he stored underneath the sink out and stuck it to his face, painstakingly making sure there weren’t any wrinkles because this had to go as smoothly as possible or else they were going to see right through him. For fuck’s sake, they were crime fighters that dealt with people high off their asses on a daily basis. He had to be super fucking careful here or else his ass was toast. 

He’d just straightened the domino for the seventh time (he had to be sure, okay?) when his sixth sense went fucking nuts. Kon ushered him back out the door and he had to do the little anti-smoke door trick think again and he was barely halfway down the hall when Dick’s voice rang clear through his living room. 

“Timmers, you know you shouldn’t leave your windows open.” 

The time to act as Not High as humanly possible was a go. 

“The AC unit stopped working so I had to overcompensate.” Perfect. Stunning. He could do this. 

Dick grinned, the corners of his own domino crinkling up at the movement. He could do this, he definitely could. The older man moved to ruffle his hair and he gave the appropriate grumbles, looking over at the window when the rest of the peanut gallery clambered on in. 

He could tell that Bruce was eyeing the candles on his counter and he was relieved when the man chose not to question it. 

Honestly, if he was being really honest here, he had no idea if the place smelled like weed. He’d gone, what? Nose-blind? Yeah, that thing. 

The Batman himself was halfway through debriefing him on what they needed the information for when Tim could literally feel the instant that the last bong refill him and Kon had ripped together finally hit. 

Hmm, this was bad. 

Very bad.

He couldn’t fucking do this. 

He hummed, trying to reassure them that he did, in fact, understand what they were talking about. (He didn’t) 

The room was quiet for a few seconds and the realization that they were probably waiting for some sort of answer hit him and he had to try very very hard not to laugh. He was, in the purest sense of the phrase, in danger. “Yeah, I understand.” That was vague enough to get him through the conversation. 

He got four simultaneous looks of confusion, Damian’s was bordering on anger. Dick put a hand on his shoulder and Tim looked over at him, trying to be as engaged as possible. “Tim, Bruce asked how you were coming along on the 85th street gang files.” 

Shit.

“Sorry, sleep dep is finally getting around to kicking my ass.” Hell yeah he could do this! “85th street gang is all filed and accounted for, Marconi is too, I can give you the electronic copies right now.” 

Dick nodded, nudging Jason who was definitely giving him a hard look underneath his helmet. “Great! Can you get us paper copies too? Only one and then we’ll get out of your hair.” Oh my God, he could actually probably get away with this. 

Wait, he shouldn’t jinx himself. 

He… wasn’t going to get away with this. 

Nice. 

Repressing the sudden, urgent need to laugh because this situation was the sort of thing that people probably had nightmares about, he started towards his computer setup. He slumped in the computer seat, wiggling the computer mouse to get it started up, and began typing in the password. 

When he clicked enter it blinked and he stared at the login screen again, the password having been rejected. 

No way, he totally typed in the right password. 

He deleted the entire thing and tried over again, clicking enter and blinking when the password was denied again. Okay wait. He deleted it again, this time taking care to type it in as slowly as possible. When it was denied for the third time he just stared at the screen. 

_How high am I right now?_

“This computer is wiggedy-widdedy wack,” he mumbled under his breath, mostly to himself, as he squinted at the screen and tried to figure out what the fuck was wrong. Dick laughed from where he stood behind him and he was fairly certain that Bruce was the one that sighed. 

Jason coughed, the sound was deep and startling and he twitched, looking up at the guy who’d long since taken off his helmet. “You’re on caps lock.” Haha, oh shit. 

“Oops,” he muttered, deleting the password and turning caps lock off before trying again, this time successful in getting into his computer. Now he just had to navigate through his folders, which, if he was careful, wouldn’t be too hard. Carefully (he wasn’t out of the danger zone yet) he managed to get up both files and sent them to the right printer (triple checking just in case) and he let himself breathe when his printer rattled to life. 

The chhk chhk chhk sound was like music to his ears. 

“Finally. I have no idea what is wrong with you tonight Drake, but your reaction time is even slower than usual.” Damian felt the need to be a little dick and Tim just snorted because this fuckin kid, man. 

Bruce was the one to move over and grab the forms from his printer, passing them to him and it took him a few seconds before he made the connection that oh, he wanted them stapled. Whatever, he handed them back over once he’d done it and Bruce gave him a firm look. 

Aw man.

“Can you put the electronic copies on this drive?” And Tim nodded dumbly, accepting the little flash drive without flourish and popping it into his computer. 

It only took a few seconds to do and he was relieved that this was finally over. 

He stood when the transfer was finished, drawing himself up to his full height and passing the drive over to Bruce who accepted it with a throaty hmm. 

“Alright, well, here’s all the information I’ve got on the groups you wanted. Sorry to have to kick you guys out now.” Haha, he wasn’t sorry, he was a liar. 

Dick made a sound halfway between a laugh and an uncomfortable grunt. “Tim, you still need to fill us in on the missing bits.” A pause. “Are you feeling alright?” Well, he was doing fine until he realized that he’d need to actually be able to recall things in acute detail. Okay well, before now he was just being pessimistic and stressed out because of how high he was, saying that he couldn’t do it because of that. Right now, in this situation, he honestly couldn’t do it. 

Real talk, if he tried to tell them something and it was wrong, it would probably hurt people. 

He had to tell Bruce. 

Fingers snapped right in front of his face, loudly, and he startled, jumping a little bit. Jason waved a hand in front of his face, eyebrows furrowing like he was trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. “You spaced out again, the hell is wrong with you?” Beep beep beep, honesty time. 

“Bruce I have a secret to tell you.” 

Damian let out a strangled sound and Tim powered on, looking Bruce dead on and staring into his white-out cowl. He lowered his voice, trying to whisper because man, this was secretive. He was doing illicit activities. (Illicit in a majority of states, at least. Hell yeah for legal California/Gotham weed.) “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell, okay?” The man stared him down and if Tim wasn’t as good at reading Bruce’s body language when he was in the Batman suit as he was, he would’ve bolted. “Okay, okay.” He breathed in deeply, letting it out in a rush. Hopefully the guy wasn’t going to get pissed. 

“I’m so fucking high right now, I’m not going to be able to recall any meaningful detail.” 

And his apartment was utterly silent, save for the sound of his box fan. 

Jason broke the silence by cackling, loud and hard, having to wrap one arm around his middle and press the other one against the wall to brace himself. “I fucking knew it!” Harsh.

“Oh my God, Tim,” Dick sounded so disappointed but Tim focused on the way Bruce just closed his eyes and sighed. 

Damian sounded almost offended. “So you are impaired.” And it wasn’t a question. 

He shrugged, and Bruce began with another sigh, looking far older than he had five minutes ago. “Are you staying safe?” Aw, daddy bats cared. 

“Yeah, me and-“ oh fuck. Kon. Something must’ve crossed his face because everyone straightened. “Oh, oh my God.” They hotboxed the absolute shit out of that bathroom and Kon had been sitting in there this entire time, breathing that shit in. And he’d already been high as fuck when they started on the last round. 

“What’s wrong.” Bruce was almost growling underneath his cowl and it was more of a demand than a question. 

He ignored it, yelling instead. “You can get out of the bathroom Kon, it’s okay!” 

Jason howled. Tim snorted despite himself and he didn’t bother to hide the laughter that bubbled up inside of him when the bathroom door opened and a rush of smoke swept through the hallway. Fucking Kon, of course he lit it up again, why did he even try to tell him otherwise? 

“Damian, put on a rebreather.” Dick sounded so damn sad and Damian’s pissed off response made him snort as he tried to look through the fog for his friend. 

“I am not a child, that is unnecessary.” 

Kon’s huge figure appeared in the doorway of the bathroom and Tim grinned, watching the way the dude had to hold onto the wall so he wouldn’t fall down. The guy was hacking, sounding like he was coughing up a lung, and Tim moved forward to help him out. He ended up having to support most of the guy’s weight, the two of them stumbling past the bats as he eased Kon into the living room. 

He ended up unceremoniously flopping him onto the sofa, but realistically speaking, what else could he do? 

The weed smell was so strong now, even to him, and he had to wonder what the bats thought of it.

“Did you fucking hotbox the bathroom?” Jason sounded near tears and Tim blinked, trying to steady himself when he realized he was swaying a little bit. 

“Yeah, it took forty minutes.” Even Dick, the guy having sounded so disappointed ever since he found out why Tim was acting like a degenerate fuck, snorted. 

Kon groaned where he was laying on the sofa and Tim could literally smell how the weed smoke had stuck to the fabric of his t-shirt. Kon was fucked, completely and utterly fucked. Bruce looked like he wanted to say something but Kon interrupted him, his throat sounding destroyed when he spoke. “Tim, help.” A pause. “I can’t feel my toes, something’s wrong.” 

Tim was fairly certain that a tear was on Jason’s cheek, but now wasn’t the time to be distracted by that. “It’s your fault for lighting up again, I told you not to.” Is what he would’ve said if his tongue listened to him and didn’t fuck up halfway through his sentence, making his words sound a little gibberish-y. Irritated but not too irritated because everything was still pretty funny, he smacked his lips a few times, trying to get his mouth to work right again. Ah shit, he had cottonmouth. 

“You’re so fucking high,” Jason spoke up, his voice still full of laughter and a little wheezy and Tim felt a smile melt over his face. He leaned down to swat lightly at Jason’s bicep, snorting. 

“Hush up, at least I’m not Kon.” Kon felt the need to groan after he said that. 

Damian made a loud noise, sounding angrier by the second, and Tim looked up, eyeing the red flush that was on the kid’s cheeks. Oho, was little Robin embarrassed to be here? “If Drake refuses to give us the material we need, then I see no point but to leave.” Oh yeah, definitely embarrassed. Tim could smell it on the kid, he was out of his depth and trying to hide it with bluster. 

“Damian,” Tim started, speaking without meaning to but having to continue when a few sets of eyes met his own. “When you turn fifteen I’m going to smoke you up for the first time and we’re going to bond, okay?” The noise Damian made this time was more strangled and Tim’s cheeks hurt with how hard he was grinning. 

Bruce was absolutely radiating disapproval, Jason’d started laughing again, and Dick made a wounded noise. 

“Tim! No, you can’t do that!” 

“That’s Damian’s choice. Weed is legal for recreational use in Gotham.” Jason said, playing Devil’s advocate for a second, and Tim couldn’t’ve repressed the little giggle that left him even if he tried. 

Bruce was silently disapproving up until now, he broke his silence with a question. “How many times a week do you do this, Tim?” They’ve officially entered another ~Danger Zone~ and from where he was slumped on the couch, Kon groaned. 

He had to count on his fingers to be able to answer the question, okay? Sue him. It took him a couple seconds but three seemed like a good number. A good solid descriptor. “Three times a week, around.” Honestly it wasn’t that bad, he’d been worse before, but with how everyone reacted, it was like he’d admitted to curb stomping some puppies. 

Dick looked like he was going to say something to that, but Kon interrupted another member of the bat-fam, sounding more clear than he’d had in a while. “Remember that one time we were trappin’ for two weeks straight?” How could Tim forget that? It was absolutely wild, he’d gotten a tattoo of a gummy bear on his ankle a few days into it. The best part had to have been when they’d funnel-fed Bart some edibles until he couldn’t stand, that was still one of the funniest things that Tim’d ever seen. 

“That doesn’t count, it was an outlier.” Kon grunted when Tim said that, sounding annoyed. 

Jason laughed, the sound of it throaty and deep, and if Tim was maybe a little more out of it, he’d go full flirt mode. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t invite me to the titans trap house, that’s unforgivable.” Tim shrugged, his arms not really feeling attached to his body. 

“Consider this your invite, then. I can shoot you a text whenever.” Tim could feel the disapproving looks but haha, it was legal for recreational use in SanFran, suck on that. 

“You’re not allowed to patrol while high.” Dick said, setting his foot down on the while situation, and Tim nodded. He didn’t have to know about all the times he’d already popped up on patrol while being high off his ass. That information was sacred. He had a feeling that Bruce was giving him a look and yeah, no, he totally was. 

“You’ve already patrolled while high, haven’t you?” Bruce asked, sounding tired. Damian looked absolutely affronted, like the idea of being “inebriated” while participating in a sacred event such as patrolling was enough to have him clutching his pearls to his chest and swooning like an old school Hollywood actress.

“Oh yeah,” Tim admitted easily, a lazy smile settling onto his face. Okay the information wasn’t that sacred. “So many times, my bad.” 

Damian was looking a little more red than was probably good for him and Jason wheezed, sounding weak all over again. “Tim’s the family pothead, I can’t fucking believe it.” That was fair, he couldn’t argue with that. 

Kon groaned and Tim looked over, his friend sitting up on the sofa and looking a lot less like he’d been dragged through the mud. “I’m turning on the tunes, you guys are, like, totally boring. You’re cramping me n’ Tim’s style with this shit.” Every time Kon regressed to his valley-girl speak when they smoked together, Tim felt like there actually was some sort of deity out there looking over them. It was a blessing. 

Even though the cowl covered most of his face, Bruce looked tired. 

“I’m not crampin’ your style.” Jason said, sitting up in his seat as Kon shuffled to the stereo system that Tim’d splurged on a while ago. “Lemme get a hit of whatever the hell you two were using and it’ll be a party.”

The three stooges made offended noises and Tim grinned, digging around in his sweatshirt pocket. “We had a bong for the hotbox but I’ll do you one better.” He pulled out his dab pen and watched Jason’s eyes glitter with a special sort of mischief that only came from pissing off the Batman. Tim tossed it over and Jason was able to catch it despite Damian’s attempt at swatting it out of his hands. Jason didn’t waste any time, putting the pen up to his mouth and pressing the button before taking an immense inhale. Tim whistled, impressed. 

“Jason!” Dick yelled, his eyes widening to an almost comical level behind his domino lenses. 

Jason managed to hold it in for a few seconds before coughing a massive cloud out, almost gagging as the smoke left him and Tim couldn’t even blame him. Pens fucking hurt if you didn’t use them regularly. 

“You’re not finishing the patrol,” Batman growled and, with perfect comedic timing, bubblegum pop began blaring from the speaker system. Kon looked so fucking proud of himself for figuring it out and Tim wheezed, having to lean against one of the chairs for support. 

Katy Perry was loud and proud as Teenage Dream blasted through the living room and Kon, in perfect High Kon action, swayed over to the fridge, his aggressive (really, it could only be described as aggressive) hip swaying making his sweatpants fall stupidly low on his hips. 

Damian was red. Hell yeah little homie, Tim totally understood. 

Haha whoa he said that out loud and not in his head. 

Dick gave him (Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne) a look like he was pleading with him, like he was trying to forge a connection with him and beg him to stop being an asshat via telepathy. Damian looked humiliated. Bruce, Bruce looked like a dad. Like such a dad. Just so dad it was fucking preposterous. 

Tim was so high he could feel the room. Just, just the entire room. He could feel it. 

He looked over at where Jason had sat and snorted when he saw the guy resting his head in the palms of his hands, his elbows propped up on his knees. The dab pen was hitting hard, apparently, hopefully he wouldn’t throw up on Tim’s floor, that was nasty. 

“Jason, are you okay?” He asked. 

“Guh.” Jason said in response. 

Well, it was better than nothing. 

Kon, at that very instant, groaned from where he stood at the fridge, sounding like an absolute catastrophe was happening right here right now. “Tim!” He said, reaching into the fridge and pulling something out. Kon whirled and threw that very something at him and it bounced lightly off Tim’s chest before he could think to grab it. “Tim there was only some fuck ass bagged spinach in the fridge!” Yeah, that was totally an unopened bag of spinach on the floor. Huh. He did need to stop for groceries, didn’t he? 

“You think I know how to shop for myself?” He challenged, leaning down (carefully, this required careful planning) to grab the bag of spinach off the floor. 

It looked good, not expired, and he gently tossed it back to Kon, who actually managed to catch it. “Eat your veggies Kon. You’re a big boy, big big boy. Eat the big boy spinach, big boy Kon.” Someone (probably one of the three musketeers, the sober fucks, the trio of dudes) sighed loudly as he went on his tirade but Kon opened the bag, looking put-out as he reached for a few of the leaves. 

He actually was going to eat it. The absolute mad man. Bart was going to lose his shit when Tim told him about this. 

Speaking of Bart, Kon was whining about him now as he moved back into the living room, a handful of spinach leaves halfway up to his mouth. “We should’ve invited Bart, he always remembers to get food before we smoke. This shit sucks Tim, seriously what the fuck? Like, like spinach totally sucks man, like seriously?” Kon sat down heavily next to where Jason was trying to compartmentalize himself, completely unaware of the whole “personal space” thing. The spinach was in his mouth now too but Kon powered on. “Can we like, call Uber eats or somethin’? My style is cramped dude, so cramped it’s dyin’, I’m dyin’ here Timmy and it’s totally the spinach’s fault.” 

“Like, totally.” Tim grinned when Kon nodded enthusiastically, not realizing that he was teasing him. 

Dick coughed, looking more uncomfortable in the Nightwing uniform than Tim had ever seen before. Bruce was utterly silent where he was standing, the man looking like he was steadily ignoring the way Damian was trying to subtly eye the V muscles that Kon had exposed on his stomach (bless you, low lying sweatpants). Ah, to be a horny fourteen year old. Tim wouldn’t wish it on anyone. 

Kon straightened when Dick made the sound, looking irritated as he gestured widely towards the intruders (sans Jason, who still didn’t have his shit together). “When are they leaving!?” Bold, that was bold Kon. “Tim, we had plans!” ‘Plans’ was a strong word to describe what they’d intended on doing. 

“Yeah, plans.” Tim agreed with Kon though, having to side with his bro. 

‘Bro’ was also a strong word to describe Kon, but it was whatever. 

“What plans could we have possibly interrupted by appearing?” Damian said it with a sneer and oh shit, Kon was going to blindside the little punk. 

Kon sat up straighter, the spinach forgotten, and that was Tim’s cue to stand up and go grab Jason a trash can just so he’d have something to distract him from the embarrassment that was probably going to cripple him in mere moments. “Listen, bats,” Kon began, more serious than he’d been before. The fact that Lady Gaga was now playing through the stereo system was absolutely pristine. Really, it was just the cherry on top. “Me ’n Tim, we’re like this.” He chanced a look and was relieved when Kon just did the thing where his middle finger crossed over his pointer finger, the two of them close. 

Dick looked morbidly curious and Tim pulled over the small black trashcan he’d bought from Target and set it in front of Jason, the danger part of his brain lighting up when Kon kept talking. 

“We’re also like this.” Kon was so fucking dumb when he was high and Tim didn’t even have to look to know he was doing the ‘finger in the hole’ thing. If he was sober he would’ve cried. But he wasn’t so he snorted and obsessively focused his efforts on positioning the trashcan just right. 

Jason was staring hard at the floor and Tim was willing to bet that the guy had no idea just how much time had passed since he’d first ripped off the pen. 

He looked back up and why was Damian looking at him like- oh wait, yeah no he knew why. He waved at the people who weren’t completely trashed, a lazy grin on his face, and Dick’s face twisted.

“Hey, that’s unfair.” He said before he could stop himself, Dick’s expression shifting to shock in a near instant. “I’ve heard so much about your sex life for the past however many years.” Bruce sighed and it looked like the Batman shared his sentiment. “You can chill bro, you can chill. That’s uncool man, totes uncool.” Kon laughed when he said that and Tim blinked. Oh yeah, it was ‘bout that time that he started talkin’ the ‘90s Teen Nick/faux skater boy talk.

“Can we leave?” Damian threw his hands up in the air, the blush from his cheeks having migrated to the tips of his ears at this point. “There is still gang activity that must be dealt with and we have wasted an hour here.” A hour? 

“An hour?” Tim repeated, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice. 

Bruce spoke up after a long while of radio silence. “Over an hour, Tim.” 

Huh. He would’ve guessed that it’d been like, thirty minutes max. “Seriously?” He had to ask again and Damian snapped, sounding angry. 

“You spent fifteen minutes figuring out how the computer worked, you absolute disgrace to the Robin uniform.” 

Jason came back to life (lol) when he heard that, lifting his head up and Tim had to fight not to giggle at the red marks that his hands had left on his forehead. “He may be a disgrace, but his weed is top fucking tier.” Epic. 

“I’m still going to smoke you up when you turn fifteen Damian, I didn’t forget about that.” He reminded the kid and Damian leveled him with a cold gaze that was completely fucking ruined by the fact the kid looked like a strawberry. He should probably stop messing with him. “Why do you call me a disgwace? It hurts my feewings.” The uwu-speak left him before he could stop it and Damian gave him one more look before actually starting to leave out the window. It looked like that was the last straw. 

Dick, after giving him another long-suffering look, gathered up the papers he’d worked hard to print out. “Thanks for the files Timmy. Don’t think this conversation’s over, though.” Oh, Tim knew that it wasn’t. He was anticipating a complete shit storm tomorrow and he’d already absentmindedly started to weigh the odds of him being noticed if he showed up to that meeting high. Dealing with it sober was going to be a nightmare. 

The man followed Damian’s lead, exiting through the window and leaving him alone with Bruce.

Okay he technically wasn’t alone but Jason was staring dead-eyed at the T.V. (which wasn’t playing anything) and Kon was halfway through the bag of spinach. Hayley Kiyoko was an absolute angel of a woman and she was singing in the background while everything kept chugging along. 

Bruce forced him to maintain eye contact for what felt like a few uncomfortable minutes before the man shook his head, turning towards the window that Tim forced himself to remember to close. Before he left, Bruce gave him one last look over his shoulder. “If Damian smokes with you, I don’t want to hear about it.” And if Tim was sober, he would’ve choked. Right now though, he nodded and waved the man out, closing the window behind him. 

Once that nightmare was over he glanced over at Kon, who was now eyeing him with intention and Tim had to remind himself that Jason was still here and their original plans had to now be adjusted. 

This shit sucked, why’d he let the guy use his dab pen again? 

Whatever. First things first, he had to order something from Uber eats or Kon was going to actually lose his shit if Tim didn’t get him anything to eat other than spinach. After that though, he could figure out what the hell their next move was because right now Tim was feeling disoriented and curious as to whether or not the last hour had actually happened. 

Bart was going to cry when Tim told him what happened tonight, like, actual tears. 

At least that was a conversation that he’d be able to look forward to.

**Author's Note:**

> Look me in the eyes and tell me that Tim doesn't own 10+ bongs and doesn't smoke at least once a week. Tell me. I'm waiting. Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne is 100% a stoner and him getting munchies is the only way he can remember to eat enough to not starve completely. That's my headcanon that's basically canon
> 
> If you follow any of my other works I'm working on them! School is attacking me physically and this was written over the course of like, a month, so it didn't take precedence over new chapters haha


End file.
